Chapter 11 – War Criminals
11.1 War Criminal Kamikaze Unit
Amidst the bright lights of around 300 ships that surrounded us, our transport reached near the shores of Tacloban on the island of Leyte late at night. Towards the morning, landing craft brought us into the coconut groves at the Palo shore. We were loaded into waiting trucks that brought us to the Palo POW camp six or seven kilometers away. Henceforth, we were imprisoned separately within a vast campsite. Officers (shôko) went into the officer’s camp while NCOs and soldiers (heishi) were sent to labor camps. Even now, most of the soldiers had been out of touch with each other. In was under these circumstances that the Japanese Army of Panay was actually dissolved.
We learned that near Camp Palo, a regiment of the 16th Division of the Japanese Army had been annihilated and that the regimental flag was burned in the mountain behind it when the US Forces had landed. It was probably because of this that there were rumors about Japanese soldiers’ ghosts sometimes appearing in the camp. There was no work for officers and the boring life as POWs started. To kill the time, sumo tournaments, volleyball and basketball games, and variety shows were held. Meanwhile, group after group of POWs from the Visayas and Mindanao areas kept on arriving.
One day towards the end of November, nine people were summoned: staff officer Colonel Hidemi Watanabe, unit commander Colonel Tozuka, Captain Makoto Yoshioka, 1st Lieutenant Hajime Fujii, Captain Jiro Motoki, Second Lieutenant Otsuka, and myself from the Japanese Army; also Captain Kaneyuki Koike and WO Fusataro Shin of the Kempeitai. Seeing the line up of the nine, I felt a chill in my heart. Immediately we were moved to another section of the camp, and were squashed in a narrow section surrounded by double fences. Already imprisoned there were Sergeant Sugimoto and six others from the Onishi unit of Cebu Island, and Major Mikami and eight others of the 30th Division (commonly called the Panther Division) of Mindanao Island. When we were put in two tents for twenty, I felt as if my body had been kicked into a bottomless pit. It was absolute desperation. The dream of returning home to Japan became an illusion. The troubles and worries I had experienced during more than three years in Panay came back to haunt me all at once.
Next morning, while it was still dark, I was awakened by the noise from the guard who was pounding empty tin cans. Breakfast was one cup of thin corn soup. The amount of food in the meals suddenly decreased. Because of hunger, I could hardly move around. Eventually, more people arrived at the camp, including Sergeant Tokizo Makita, Corporal Itai, Private First Class Sekitomo Ueki, Master Sergeant Shirakura, Master Sergeant Yoshiaki Sumitani, Sergeant Watanabe, Interpreter Ogino were from the Kempeitai. Several days later, we were joined by 1st Lieutenant Toyota.
Eventually the Special Camp became full of war criminal suspects from different places, and the number of tents increased. Day after day, with three meals of just a cup of corn soup and water, I was hungry. When I stood up, I felt dizzy. This was the first experience of hunger I ever had in my life. Beyond the double fences, it seemed there was the camp of Hôjin women and children, and I sometimes heard the distinctive accent of the Taiwanese comfort women. The hunger became unbearable. Thus, I went up to the fence one evening, and wishing with a big ‘IF’, I called to one of the women speaking in Taiwanese accent. She happened to be one of the comfort women who had been in Panay Island. On hearing that officers from Panay were imprisoned in the War Criminal Suspects’ Camp, she was shocked and became very sympathetic. She promised to bring me food.
Next morning, I heard a sound like that of coconuts dropping–‘boton, boton’ – and got out of the tent. There were tins scattered around. They were ration tins of the US forces. We jumped at them with cries of joy and, after the spell of hunger, ate to our satisfaction. Eventually the Hôjin women from Iloilo joined in the throwing in of foodstuffs. The guards generously ignored that. Those gifts from the women’s camp were shared with POWs from other units and were appreciated.
One thing that made the women from Panay exert much effort to give us gifts of food was their appreciation of the unit commander, Colonel Tozuka, and other officers. In the mountains of Bocari, they seemed to have been quite discontented by their treatment by the army. Yet at the camp in Leyte, the women from other islands were tearfully envious of them since they had their children with them. When going into the mountains in other islands, children under twelve were killed by soldiers since they were deemed hindrances to operations of the Japanese Army. The Taiwanese comfort women had compassion for us because they had discovered that it was only in Panay that all the Taiwanese comfort women survived.
In December, the soldiers who were returning to Japan from Leyte increased in number. Seeing them depart with filled bags and full of joy, those of us left behind felt even more depressed. WO Shin of the Kempeitai had become involved with a pseudo-religion, and it was a pitiful sight to see him praying so eagerly.
On February 2, 1946, the 50 of us who were suspects were sent to Manila from Tacloban harbor in a small transport. We arrived in Manila after a few days, and were sent by car to Calamba Camp in Laguna Province near Lake Laguna, 50 kilometers south of Manila. When we entered the camp, Colonel Shoichi Yamaguchi – commander of the 172nd Battalion of Negros Island who had been there some time before us – came over and told us about the situation of the war crimes trials with a serious expression on his face. He informed us that General Yamashita had already been sentenced to death. Furthermore, according to the trials held so far, those who had killed even just one Filipino, for whatever reason, received the death penalty while those who inflicted torture got imprisonment for life. One out of two suspects received the death penalty.
Next morning as I got out of bed, I saw pale suspects in rags appear one after another from each tent. They were officers who fought in Luzon and the sight made me imagine the fierceness of the warfare there. About 400 or 500 meters beyond the camp fence were hundreds of white crosses that marked graves. Behind them was the dark Mt. Makiling that looked down on the vast camp area. This was where the 8th Division had desperately fought, causing a great number of victims.
On March 3, we were moved to a camp at Nichols Field in the suburbs of Manila, currently the Manila International Airport. Here all 14 of us – starting with Lieutenant General Kôno, staff officer Colonel Hidemi Watanabe, unit commander Lieutenant Colonel Tozuka and other suspects related to Panay – were assembled. As we were summoned for examination one by one everyday, the full picture of the incidents under suspicion revealed itself. Most of the incidents were cases that happened during the half-year Joint Punitive Operation from July to December of 1943. The number of Filipino deaths was 2,000 and there were 14 of us. I thought it was impossible to survive in such a situation.
One night, General Kôno assembled the others, and he said with emotion, ‘I’m an old man and I do not have a long future to look forward to. I want to save your lives if possible. Tell me if you have any wish.’ The General had never talked to us frankly. When he started to speak to us like this, we could not utter any of the complaints we might have had. After all, it was decided that General Kôno and unit commander Tozuka would take responsibility for the whole situation of Panay, and that each of us would take responsibility for specific cases. At the end of the day, General Kôno said, ‘Lieutenant General Akira Mutô, the Chief of Staff of the Philippine Islands Area Army who stood as a witness at General Yamashita’s trial, is now in this camp; so let us listen to him as well regarding the trials.’
Several days later, the suspects related to Panay Island got together at General Mutô’s tent where he spoke with great spiritual potency. ‘The war has not ended in the real sense of the word. The US is trying to kill as many Japanese officers and soldiers as possible. In war, the important thing is to cause as few Japanese victims as possible. In the trials as well, what we should do is not to name any others. You are all honorable kamikaze fighters. You should fight the trial with the spirit of a kamikaze. In addition, the US Forces want to say that the top commanders of the Japanese Army had ordered the killing of non-combatants. You should never say, for the sake of Japan, for the sake of the Japanese Army, that anyone who graduated from the Imperial Military Academy had ever ordered killing of non-combatants.’
The solemn talk of the Chief of Staff of the 14th Area Army whom we met for the first time impressed us. However, the countermeasure policy, i.e., the ‘War Criminal Kamikaze Unit’ suggested by General Mutô, seriously affected the proceedings of the war crimes tribunals in the Philippines. The high-ranking officers meticulously followed this policy – unanimously repeating ‘I have nothing to do with the case. I know nothing about it .’
On top of this, the trials that I later observed did not necessarily proceed according to what the Chief of Staff, General Mutô, told us. Some US soldiers did understand bushi no nasake, the benevolence of the samurai. There were the cases related to the Batanes Islands, the small islands scattered between Northern Luzon and Taiwan. Lieutenant General Hikojiro Tajima, commander of the 6lst Independent Mixed Brigade and his 13 subordinates were tried for the execution of three US pilots who were shot down and became POWs. They were also charged with the execution of the guerrillas who had killed 13 guards of the Japanese Army. In order to save his subordinates, General Tajima testified that he had ordered the killings. Therefore, only General Tajima was sentenced to death by hanging and was executed in April 1946. I heard that the Presiding Judge of that trial was so moved by General Tajima’s affectionate attitude toward his subordinates and grew to respect him.
In time, investigators came with around 50 Filipinos to identify us suspects from Panay. General Kono and the others were all kept standing under the scorching sun in the square. The citizens of Panay, guided by Philippine Army officers, tried hard to remember our faces, checking us out with the photographs in their hands. As they came in front of me, an investigator said, ‘This is Kumai’, with a thin smile on his face. I understood that to have meant his reminder for other Filipinos to remember my face. I got so exhausted after one hour of standing under the burning sun and collapsed into bed as soon as it was over. After the identification process was over, it seemed more certain that we would be condemned as war criminals. They were saying that it would be the death penalty for one killing, and the number we had killed was supposedly 2,000.
Dividing the blame among the 14 left no possibility for us to survive. I spent the next few days in a desperate mood as if my death sentence had already been confirmed. At the end of the day, I looked blankly upon the mountains east of the camp. The inviting peaks of Antipolo showed themselves clearly in front of me in the rays of the setting sun. I made a sudden decision to escape.
As I looked back, we surrendered obeying the emperor’s order. Had I known that I would face the cruel fate of the death penalty, I would not have surrendered but fought on until my last breath. I regretted to having surrendered following the order, without an inkling that the situation would turn out this way. Now that I was abandoned even by my country, Japan, to which I dedicated my life. I decided I had to fight for my own sake.
I called on 2nd Lieutenant Ôtsuka thinking as the old proverb says, ‘It is good to have a partner on one’s journey’. Grinning, he said, ‘I’ve been waiting for your call, Kumai-san,’ and he pointed under his bed. There he had accumulated salt and a fair amount of pills for malaria.
One night while we were trying to determine the timing of our escape, the former 14th Army Chief of Staff Lieutenant General Takaji Wachi was brought to our prison camp. He had been summoned from Japan as a witness for Lieutenant General Masaharu Homma, former commander of 14th Area Army, who was being tried for the Bataan Death March. We decided to listen to his talk about the situation of Japan. Members of the camp got together at his tent and we listened to him late into the night. His talk not only impressed us but also made us angry. As I paid attention to the stories about Japan that I wanted to know, I considered that it was the right time to escape.
On that same night, however, three POWs had run away – namely, Master Sergeant Kuwano, Sergeant Makita and Corporal Itai – and there was great confusion throughout the camp. Hurriedly, the authorities started to build a double barbed-wire fence that was nearly three meters tall around the War Criminal Suspects’ Camp. Those POWs got a head start on me and I felt very sorry to be left behind. All the same, there was nothing I could do but pray for their success. Four or five days passed, and I was happily thinking that they must have succeeded. Then suddenly, a cage-like structure measuring about five meters square was built at the camp entrance. To our surprise, the three who had attempted to escape were put in that cage. We later learned that Itai had lost his shoes while the three were swimming across the 100-meter wide Pasig River. He soon was unable to walk on land, and they had hidden themselves in a swamp for three or four days. They gave up when they got hungry and surrendered to nearby residents.
Several days after the incident, the thick barbed-wire fence around the camp was completed and the number of guards increased.
11.2 Failed Escape
On April 4, we were again moved to the prison camp in Canlubang. I immediately started to prepare for escape. Through reliable acquaintances, I tried hard to collect information on the geography of Mt. Makiling and the area around it, the places where the Japanese Army buried their weapons, the possible existence of any Japanese soldiers, the sea current from the northern end of Luzon Island to the sea off Taiwan, and the trade winds. Then again, I also made every effort to obtain goods such as medicine for malaria, salt, a compass, map, knives, mess kits, canteens, a US tent and so on. Old friends like Captain Junsuke Hitomi of the Army Propaganda Corps and Captain Motoki kindly gave me malaria medicine and salt, wishing me success on my escape.
I called on those from within our unit who likewise intended to escape. Some from other units joined upon learning of my intentions. We checked on the escape points of the camp, the guard situation, and the method of cutting the barbed wire fence. One day in early May, when the preparations were nearly complete, a clipping from a Manila newspaper in English was posted on the entrance wall of the camp. It said, ‘On the crime of killing around 2,000 residents in Panay, Brigade Commander Lieutenant General Kôno was given the sentence of Death by Hanging. His 13 subordinates are going to be tried in the near future.’ It made me feel that I had no second to lose anymore.
I decided to carry out our escape in mid-May. That night a theatre performance was held sponsored by gangsters (Yakuza) who had control of the camp. The moon was expected to rise at 10 p.m. Six of us – myself, lst Lieutenant Toyota, Sergeant Makita, Corporal Itai, and Major Takeshita of the Mindanao Kempeitai and his subordinate Sergeant Kobayashi – gathered at 7 p.m. by the ditch of the NCO and enlisted men’s camp that we had earlier identified.
Quickly we started to use a pair of pliers to cut the barbed wire in the ditch but the pliers were old and did not work well. As I was getting irritated, a prisoner who I did not know came up to me with a tissue and pencil. In tears, he said, ‘I am xxx stationed at the Cabatuan airfield. Please write your message to your family on this paper. As I’m from Oita prefecture, I’ll make sure to give it to them.’ I told him that I had already sent them a letter, so I had nothing more to tell them, and thanked him. He responded, ‘Then I’ll be watching the guard tower from that tent. I wish you success. ‘Then he left. I later found out that he was Mr. Takeshi Ando, who lives in Oita.
Quite a time had passed but we had cut only less than a third of the barbed wires. We were vexed and worried. A group of men appeared in the dark with the rattling noise of high-heeled geta (wooden clogs or the traditional Japanese footwear). One of them suddenly gave Itai a straight punch, causing him fall down. Itai – who was nicknamed after a well-known gangster, Ishimatsu of the Forest – made no counterpunch. The man who had punched him was one of the gangsters who were in charge of the camp. On the surface, as seen by the US camp authorities, a POW was the formal representative of the Japanese; in the background, however, the gangsters controlled the kitchen, entertainment and the ditches, among other things.
Showing off his tattoos on his arms, the gangster made a deep bow to us, and said in an intimidating husky voice, ‘My name is Tomioka and I’m a sworn brother of Boss Takada. Itai is my sworn brother. There are also some among my henchmen who have to run away. So please wait for them. We will certainly let you run away. We gangsters respect our sense of obligation more than anything else.’ His words were polite but he was actually threatening us. Thus, we had to give up our attempt to escape that night. The Gangster Boss came to know of our plan because Itai had stolen the only pair of pliers for the stage of the theater.
Gangsters controlled the ditches that were possible escape routes. Therefore, our attempt to escape now needed the permission of the Gangster Boss. I often urged the Boss to keep his promise and let us go. However, the Boss just repeated his exaggerated talk and did not make a move. In the meantime, around May 20, a rumor spread that someone had escaped from the camp. Soon we knew it was Sergeant Makita. The next day, I happened to see Sergeant Makita who was being escorted by four or five guards. When his eyes met mine, he sent me a wink that implied ‘Damn, I failed again!’ Sergeant Makita had run away from the general camp and reached as far as the foot of Mt. Makiling. However, armed local residents were already hunting the area. Realizing that that it impossible for him to flee further without being detected, he submitted himself to them. The rumor was that someone had tipped off the US Forces from inside the camp that made possible the quick dispatch of the search orders for him.
My escape plan did not work out. On June 2, when I was in the pit of despair and discouragement, all of us related to Panay were moved to the Manila court. The wire netting that covered the vehicle into which we were pushed reminded me of bamboo cages that carried criminals in Japan. Amidst the yelling of ‘Bakayaro, dorobo, You sons of bitches, thieves!’ uttered by the people along the road, we made our way to the Manila court. Having given up all hope, the words of hatred and humiliation no longer evoked any emotion or anger in us. Like fools, we just stared at those Filipinos.
11.3 War Crimes Tribunal
The venue for the War Crimes Tribunal used to be the official residence of the US High Commissioner before the war. During the Japanese occupation, it was the official residence of Lieutenant General Homma. Currently, it is the American Embassy. The complex, which had been damaged and burned from the street fighting and fires that ravaged across the city of Manila, was given emergency repairs by the US forces for the use of the tribunal. There were three buildings of cells for the suspects, with a narrow 30 square-meter walking space. There were courtrooms and investigation rooms as well, although barbed wires and canvas surrounded the 150-square meter area. We could hear the wave sounds of Manila Bay and could see Bataan Peninsula and Corregidor beyond the sea. Nevertheless, the heat inside the cells was deadly.
On the next day, June 3, the full-scale investigation by prosecutors started. It went on day after day, exhausting everyone who was anxious to know how they may be saved from the death penalty at the end of each day.
In these circumstances, we heard of how the executions of Captain Makoto Yoshioka of the 4th company and 2nd Lieutenant Okuda, a platoon commander, were carried out. They had been tried separately from us for the execution of American pilots. We were told that they both were calm all the way and when they left for the execution ground, they saluted the others in a moment of stillness.
In the few secret meetings of the Panay suspects, we discussed and agreed that we would never mention any names of our comrades. We would be calling witnesses from among ourselves and not anyone who had already returned to Japan. However, what infuriated us was the fact that the prosecutors decided not to prosecute staff officer Colonel Hidemi Watanabe, the main person responsible for the Panay cases. We were the ones being investigated as suspects, beaten down with the fear of death. Why? Colonel Watanabe had been the actual commander of the punitive expeditions in Panay. In teaming up with Captain Kengo Watanabe, he forced everyone to pursue the brutal punitive battles. He had ordered Captain Watanabe to produce more and more brilliant war results, unmindful of how they were obtained.
We were all outraged with the decision made by the Military Commission but we could do nothing about it. The blame for the crimes of this VIP, who the Americans decided not to indict, was going to fall upon us. It made matters more and more disadvantageous for us.
The first trial towards the end of June was for Colonel Tozuka. Just as in the case of the trial of General Kôno, the prosecutor presented 30 to 40 witnesses one after another who vividly described a number of cases. Colonel Tozuka brushed aside these testimonies, saying, ‘I do not know anything about that.’ His lawyer was astonished and strictly criticized him, ‘Do you think all these cases can be done away with ‘I do not know’? Why are you not thinking of the trials of your subordinates that will follow yours? Have you no compassion for them?’ Among the witnesses, former Iloilo Provincial Governor Fermin Caram appeared at the court. He gave a simple testimony about unit commander Tozuka, ‘He was a cruel commander.’ By the end of June, before his lawyer could provide any decent defense, Colonel Tozuka was sentenced with the death penalty.
The second trial was a joint one of 2nd Lieutenant Noriyuki Ôtsuka and Master Sergeant Kuwano. The incidents included the killing of ten American civilians in the mountains of Tapaz, and others across the whole route of the punitive operations. Apparently prepared for the worst, Second Lieutenant Ôtsuka attended the trial with a fair and decent attitude and concentrated on saving the life of his subordinate Master Sergeant Kuwano.
His good-spirited attitude as a soldier impressed his lawyer and the presiding judge. The prosecutor presented witnesses from among local residents one after another. Every time they mentioned Kuwano, Second Lieutenant Noriyuki Ôtsuka took the blame on himself, saying ‘I am to I blame for all that.’ The most powerful of the prosecutor’s witnesses was a former spy for the Japanese Army named Jesus (Astrologo), who could well be called a former disciple of Ôtsuka. A Philippine trial was waiting ahead for him as a collaborator of the Japanese since collaboration was considered treason in the Philippines. Ôtsuka was considerate that the punishment for Jesus would be as light as possible, and always faced Jesus with smiles. Ôtsuka did not contradict any of Jesus’ testimony and instead seemed to encourage him. Jesus was moved by this attitude. Aware of Ôtsuka’s intention, he did not give any testimony that was disadvantageous for Master Sergeant Kuwano. Jesus was shedding tears when he left the courtroom. In the end, the sentence was death by hanging for Ôtsuka while Master Sergeant Kuwano miraculously received a life sentence due to his joint trial with Lieutenant Ôtsuka.
July 4, 1946 was the day of independence of the Philippines. From outside the camp saluting salvos sounded from US warships harbored in Manila Bay. In the-air was the droning of Superfortresses (B-29s) in a great formation. On the street fronting the Bay View Hotel and the court, was a grand brass band parade. The exciting scenes of national celebration unrolled all day in front of our eyes.
The next day, July 5, was the day my trial began. The courtroom to which I was taken was the one where General Yamashita, General Homma and General Kono were given their death sentences. Already in the 20 square-meter courtroom were my defense lawyer Simon, the prosecutor Shepherd and a Japanese American interpreter. The trial immediately opened as soon as the Presiding Judge, Colonel Ottoman, sat down with two associate judges.
First came the arraignment. After I answered, ‘I’m not guilty,’ the prosecutor called in a sharp-eyed Philippine Army Master Sergeant to the witness stand. He testified: ‘In 1943, I was in the 63rd Regiment of the guerrillas in Panay Island and was captured by the Kempeitai. After I was set free, I went along as a porter in the punitive operations of the Japanese Army. In December of the same year I was carrying Kumai’s belongings in the operations on Tablas Island. At that time, the Kumai Company captured a local resident around 50 years of age. After they treated him cruelly, Shimoji, an interpreter was ordered to kill him. The second incident occurred near this place. The Kumai unit captured a blind old woman, and after torturing her brutally, they bound her to a tree. I think she died later.’ Defense lawyer Simon stood up and successively questioned him on the inconsistencies in his testimony, to which the witness replied confidently.
In the afternoon session, there was a second eyewitness. He was a simple, honest-looking 20-year old peasant, not the type who told lies. In broken English, he testified: ‘In December 1943, I went to Lucena, Iloilo, as a porter of the Kumai unit. There was no battle in the area, and it was peaceful. Kumai, however, beheaded three people one after another in front of my eyes.’ This testimony referred to an incident that was in a supplementary indictment against me. The prosecutor had not preinvestigated the matter; neither was it mentioned at either trial of General Kôno or Colonel Tozuka. My own defense lawyer had shown me the case just a few days before the start of the trial. As it was so sudden, I barely had time to prepare and submit a confession that one of my subordinates killed a Filipino following an order given by Captain Watanabe. When the witness finished his testimony, prosecutor Shepherd sat down looking as if he had won the game. Murmurs spread in the public gallery where people quietly listened to the testimonies. At once, their hate-filled eyes focused on me. It was a strange atmosphere, as if a death sentence had already been meted. Next, defense lawyer Simon stood up and asked questions of the witness in almost the same order as the prosecutor did, and the witness answered – sometimes haltingly – but as a whole, without any problem.
Miraculously, however, towards the end of his testimony, he made a mistake. Lawyer Simon had asked him gently, ‘When Kumai beheaded the three, did you see blood flow out of their necks?’ The witness replied, ‘I do not know.’ At this blunt reply, a sudden commotion occurred in the court. Lawyer Simon earnestly asked him simple questions one after another, but the witness just repeated, ‘I don’t know,’ to whatever was asked.
Finally, the exasperated Presiding Judge Colonel Ottoman ordered, ‘I believe the witness does not understand English well. I will call for a recess. When we come back for the next court session, let him have a Visayan interpreter.’ Therefore, the trial broke into a recess. Under these circumstances, a break in the proceedings was usually disadvantageous for the accused. During the recess, the witness could calm himself, and the prosecutors and Filipino military assistants could skillfully give suggestions to the witnesses through persuasion or threats.
When the court session resumed, a smallish attractive female interpreter, half-Filipina and half-Chinese, appeared. Again, the defense lawyer began to ask questions. The good-looking interpreter – after taking some time for the witness to think about it, as if she was trying to soothe the witness – translated the question into Visayan in a gentle voice. No matter what he was asked, however, the witness kept shaking his head saying, ‘I don’t know.’
Observing the proceedings, the Presiding Judge Ottoman could no longer contain himself. Speaking in a coaxing voice though – his face was strict, he questioned the witness a few times as if to console him: ‘You have seen Kumai kill the local people, have you not?’ However, the answer was still, ‘I don’t know.’ Lastly, the Presiding Judge said as if asking a child for a favor, ‘When Kumai cut the head with a sword, it bled, didn’t it?’ but the witness repeated as if saying a rosary, ‘I don’t know.’ Probably the witness could no longer bear giving false testimonies. Thus, the first half of the afternoon court session finished with the witness’ ‘I do not know.’
During the next recess, defense lawyer Simon instructed me to respond to the supplementary indictment as follows: ‘There were also other units engaged in the punitive operation in Lucena, and I do not know anything about this case, although I had been in Lucena.’ He ignored the confession I had submitted. As for the first and second incidents, I myself could not identify if they were factual or not; two and a half years had passed. However, that excuse would never get anyone through in a trial. Therefore, I made up my own scenario about the incidents, drummed it repeatedly into my head, and studied as many possible questions so that I would not contradict myself. In the situation I was in, my experience of interrogating the guerrillas in Panay helped me. Surprising even myself, I gave testimony at the court very calmly. My testimony was as follows:
‘Both incidents happened in the main guerrilla bases, while we were hurriedly chasing the guerrillas. As the witness said, Shimoji stabbed a Filipino with a ‘ binangon’ though I never heard that he was killed. This man was a precious guide in our search for the main guerrilla base; therefore, I had ordered Shimoji to walk with him to the headquarters. However, Shimoji later hurt the man, and did not bring him to me. So, after the Punitive Operation finished, towards the end of January 1944, I requested the unit commander to put Shimoji in the military jail for a month as punishment for disobeying orders. He was later conscripted as Private Second Class in November 1944 and was killed in action, but his Filipina wife lives in Iloilo Province, so if you look for her and call her as witness, everything will become clear. ‘
I pleaded in a loud voice. Though I thought the court would never try to look for her as witness, I appealed to the public gallery with many gestures.
About the second incident, I testified as follows, paying attention not to totally deny the remarks of the witness and make him lose face:
It happened while I was pursuing guerrillas in the mountains. I captured an old woman older than 50, whose eyesight was deteriorating. She was not blind, but as she was afraid, she shouted loudly and made such a fuss. As she had a skin disease and was covered with pimples all over, I worried about the possibility of infection, and interrogated her with her hands bound. As this concerned collecting information about the guerrillas, we would never interrogate anyone in front of Filipino porters.
As soon as my testimony had finished, prosecutor Shepherd stood up and cross-examined for nearly an hour while shouting or intimidating me. I kept looking nervous but I was calm inside. When it came to an important point, I had the Japanese American (Nisei) interpreter repeat the question telling him that I could not catch its meaning. Sometimes, I pretended I had misunderstood the question and while giving a contradictory answer, I gained time to think about it.
Regarding the supplementary indictment, as Simon had directed me, I calmly answered that I knew nothing about the incident, although I had been in Lucena. As the War Crimes Tribunal was conducted American style, what was decisive was the magic of the words rather than the facts. The accused could not afford to make a mistake of even one word. Prosecutor Shepherd had a habit of snapping his fingers when the accused slipped up in his reply about an important point, or when he failed to find any fault with the accused. My testimony ended when he had snapped his fingers seven or eight times.
Next day, in the morning of July 6, Captain Jiro Motoki, the Adjutant of the headquarters at the time of the incident, presented himself at the court as a witness to substantiate my testimony. He specifically testified without showing any faults that he put Shimoji in the military prison for a month upon my order. Moreover, lawyer Simon called to the witness stand a staff officer of the General Headquarters, who was an absolute stranger to me. I wondered what Simon wanted him to testify on. Simon showed a copy of the Japanese Army Criminal Law to the prosecutor, and let the staff officer confirm that it was so. Then he read out loudly one article from it. ‘At the battle front, the regimental commander and independent battalion commander can put his subordinate in military prison for one month. Kumai punished Shimoji legally according to the concerned law,’ Simon stated. I had never read the said article of the law, and it was just then that I realized that I had mentioned a one-month imprisonment that, by chance, coincided with the regulation of the Army Criminal Law.
As the court procedure thus advanced, and while the prosecution witness tried to drive the prey to bay on false testimonies, the accused also tried to break loose through fictions. Both the Prosecution and the Defense competed with fabrications. The prosecutor again summoned the Master Sergeant of the guerrilla regiment as witness and confirmed his testimony on the alleged crimes.
The defense lawyer was given a chance for final questions. Simon asked him all sorts of questions trying to overturn false statements that the witness had given. But the witness must have been an old hand in such circumstances, and he went on replying with ease. After this, the prosecutor asked him questions in the manner of attacking a routed enemy. The questions were so leading, such that every word of the witness would confirm that I was guilty. Towards noon, the Presiding Judge Ottoman again asked defense lawyer Simon for confirmation, ‘Do you have any more questions?’ Lawyer Simon silently considered the question for some time and eventually replied, ‘I have one.’ He stood up determinedly with a serious expression on his face and asked the witness, ‘Tell the court the situation of the time when Shimoji stabbed the Filipino with a binangon.’ With a smile on his lips, the witness confidently replied, ‘Shimoji plunged the binangon into the chest of the Filipino. The blade of the binangon stuck out of his back two inches long, and he fell straight down painfully groaning.’ Simon said ‘No more questions.’ Then he quickly seated himself. A momentary expression of shock appeared on the face of the prosecutor. The interpreter nearby whispered to me, ‘The falsity of the witness’ testimony seems to have come out.’ With that, the morning court adjourned.
The Final Pleading was held in the afternoon. First, defense lawyer Simon stood up and argued as follows: ‘As for the first and second counts, the testimony given by the witness is clearly false. As the honorable Presiding Judge with his long military experience might know well, it is difficult even for an experienced soldier to stab a man in the chest so deeply that the blade got through two inches out into the other side. For a civilian, Shimoji, it is impossible to stab a binangon through the victim’s body and get the blade to stick out two inches in the back. Therefore, the evidence is clearly proved false. Besides, the witness says the victim was groaning. Then it is a case of injury. The wounded man might have been cured later. It is wrong to have prosecuted the accused with homicide. Obviously, the witness has given false evidence. If this was in a US Court, he would be accused of perjury. On the other hand, the accused punished his subordinate for his illegal act according to the Japanese Military Criminal Law. Thus, he had carried out his responsibility for the case. As for the supplementary indictment, the witness himself says he knows nothing about the case. Therefore, that testimony of the witness is invalid. There is no evidence for the concerned incident, and besides, the witness had given false testimony.’
To counter this, the prosecutor argued as follows: ‘The testimonies of the witnesses for all the cases were correct. Although Kumai testified that he had punished Shimoji according to Japanese Army Criminal Law, we cannot trust this. The reason is that so many incidents had happened in Panay Island, but no one had ever been punished with Army Criminal Law. In the trials of many other cases, as a number of witnesses testified, the name Kumai is always mentioned in relation with the Punitive Operations. The victims in Panay numbered as many as 2000. All the officers who joined in the Punitive Operations in which so many incidents are involved are responsible for all the incidents of Panay Island.’ Finally, he said in a particularly loud voice, ‘Therefore I demand for Kumai the sentence of death by hanging,’ then he sat down.
After that, the Presiding Judge announced: ‘The verdict will be handed down on July 9.’ The court adjourned while all present stood up. The interpreter consoled me, ‘Surprisingly, according to the experiences thus far, those who the prosecution demanded death by hanging were saved, while those who were left under the judgment of the Presiding Judge got the death penalty.’
During July 7 and 8, the words ‘death by hanging’ kept resounding in my ears, and I spent the whole time feeling as if a rope was clinging around my neck. I could not sleep at night wondering about the sentence.
On the day of the Judgment, after 8 a.m., I went to the court accompanied by MPs and the interpreter. After everyone stood up, Presiding Judge Ottoman made me and the defense lawyer stand in front, and spoke fast and loud in English: ‘First count..., Second count..,and as soon as I heard the word, ‘Guilty’ I clearly heard ‘Twenty-five years hard labor.’ With these words, all my tension had gone, and I felt a sudden brightness in front of me. Quickly two MPs came up, and took me by the arms to carry me out of the Court almost holding me up in their arms. Outside was waiting a jeep. Lawyer Simon ran up. He consoled me: ‘What is important at the military court is just to survive. Everything will turn out all right as long as you keep alive. The imprisonment is going to be in Sugamo Prison. Your case would have won “Not Guilty” if this trial were in a US court.’ He asked me to write my name and address in his notebook. I thanked Lawyer Simon sincerely and repeatedly. Viewed from the jeep, the scenery along the road, the passers-by, everything looked bright, and naturally the songs I knew came out one after another.
When I returned to the war criminal camp at Canlubang, Ôtsuka’s voice was heard from behind the wire mesh around the facility for those sentenced to death, ‘How did it go?’ As I shouted ‘Twenty-five years!’, Colonel Tozuka and Ôtsuka both called out: ‘Ho, I’m glad to hear that.’ It does not matter if it is inside a prison. I can live. As long as I keep alive. Deeply did I feel the joy of living!
11.4 Seven Executions by Hanging
Following my trial was that of WO Fusataro Shin for the murder of several civilians. The lawyer was also Simon. But by this time, WO Shin was completely obsessed by the supernatural. Astonishing Simon, his affidavit stated: ‘I know perfectly what you, the US Forces, are going to do with me. I have a god abiding in me, and through his words, I know everything.’ Matsuzaki and I warned him that this would not suffice for an appropriate affidavit for a trial. WO subsequently rewrote this, but his fanatic words and behavior might have spoiled the impression he made for lawyer Simon. His having been a former member of the Kempeitai was disadvantageous for the trial. The proceedings of his trial were carried out in complete silence. He had no chance to speak out; and though the lawyer had assured him, ‘No problem, it’s going to be all right,’ Shin received the ‘death by hanging’ sentence around July 15.
The trial of 1st Lieutenant Hajime Fujii was based on dozens of killings. The prosecutor made a Filipino interpreter and spy who had served Fujii, Francisco Manzanilla (called Jiro among the Japanese Army soldiers), stand as a powerful witness. When Francisco met Fujii at the court, he briefly looked apologetic but soon replied to the questions of the prosecutor. Fujii did not object to his testimonies; if he countered the statements of Francisco, things might go against Francisco in his own trial as a Japanese collaborator. Furthermore, countering Francisco’s testimony might increase the number of war criminal suspects among the soldiers of Fujii’s company. So he kept silent. A female witness appeared at the Court. While testifying that Fujii had humiliated her, she collapsed crying. Fujii had already made up his mind that there was no way to avoid the death penalty and his attitude showed his belief there was nothing he could do by making a fuss. His defense lawyer Springer was moved by his transcendental attitude, and he painstakingly took the argument as follows: ‘Although Fujii caused many incidents, the fact that he was promoted without receiving any punishment showed that his deeds were all according to the orders given by his commanders.’
Although Fujii himself did not call in any witnesses, Lieutenant General Kôno Colonel Tozuka had been summoned as his defense witnesses. The defense lawyer tried to have them testify that they were the ones who gave Fujii his orders. However, both Kôno and Tozuka consistently replied that they knew nothing and made no remarks to protect Fujii. As expected, his sentence was ‘death by hanging.’
The trial of 1st Lieutenant Chiyomi Toyota started towards the end of July 1946. The grounds for his prosecution were incidents in Sara. As garrison commander at Sara and a representative of all Japanese Army officers who joined the punitive expedition there, a guilty sentence was expected for him. The prosecution framed Lieutenant Toyota as a war criminal suspect though factual details of the relevant incidents did not fit . Captain Watanabe, in fact, committed the crimes. Therefore, the personnel dispatched to investigate the crime scenes could not find anything that proved his alleged crimes.
The prosecution was surprised but could not withdraw the indictment. The lawyer asked Toyota to admit the indictments as facts and that they would get him a sentence of less than twenty-five years. Toyota chose not to conform, relying on the facts. The trial started. I stood as witness and testified as to the absence of Toyota at the supposed crime scenes since he had been dispatched to completely different areas. In the end, Lieutenant Toyota received a 25-year hard labor sentence as the lawyer had predicted.
There was a joint court trial for Sergeant Tokizo Makita and Corporal Hisaki Itai, accused of the murder of civilians during the period of their service at the garrison in Leon, Iloilo. Sergeant Makita had tried to escape twice. From the start, he was not given any consideration and was treated as a prisoner with a death penalty. Corporal Itai, who always behaved like a gangster, quarreled with his lawyer and made a bad impression on him. Neither of them received proper advice and were given the death penalty just as easily as it is to twist a baby’s wrist.
The trial of Sergeant Matsuzaki came next. The prosecutor was Shepherd who was in charge of investigating the Panay cases at the War Criminal Suspects’ camp at Nichols Airfield. While he was using Matsuzaki as interpreter, he had been impressed with Matsuzaki’s personality. At the time of the trial, Shepherd realized that the prosecution’s case drawn up by the guerrilla side was absolutely false. Banda, Matsuzaki’s lawyer instructed him, ‘I’m sure your penalty is going to be a five-year imprisonment, so admit the facts for which you are indicted.’ As instructed, Matsuzaki admitted guilt from the start. The prosecutor presented witnesses to the court as formally required, including a former spy Jesus Astrologo and a few others. But the witnesses tried to protect Matsuzaki as if they were witnesses for the accused, saying, ‘Matsuzaki was a gentleman and was kind to anyone.’ The trial ended in less than two hours and Matsuzaki got five years as his lawyer had predicted. It was an abnormally short trial at the Manila War Crimes Tribunal.
The next case involved the unit headquarters represented by Captain Jiro Motoki. Jose Dimzon, a former spy for the headquarters was presented as a prosecution witness, along with several of his relatives, but Motoki was handed a sentence of life imprisonment. Sergeant Hamamoto of the Machine-gun unit, who represented those prosecuted for crimes on Guimaras Island was also given a life sentence due to the excellent defense of his lawyer, Banda.
The trial of the Panay cases ended on August 19 with the trial of Sergeant Hamamoto. The sentences were as follows: seven were sentenced to death by hanging–the garrison commander Lieutenant General Kôno, the unit commander Lieutenant Colonel Tozuka, lst Lieutenant Hajime Fujii, Second Lieutenant Noriyuki Otsuka, Kempeitai WO Fusataro Shin, Sergeant Tokizo Makita, and Lance Corporal Hisaki Itai. Those who got life imprisonment were Captain Jiro Motoki, Master Sergeant Kuwano, and Sergeant Hamamoto. First Lieutenant Toyota and I got a 25-year sentence while Sergeant Matsuzaki got a 5-year imprisonment.
The results seemed to show that the standard rule at that time was also applied to the Panay Cases. There was a balance in the sentences for life and death. We were imprisoned in the Canlubang camp for war criminals near Laguna Lake in Laguna Province. Prisoners with the death penalty were placed under strict guard in solitary cells. Prisoners with life and other set terms of imprisonment were put in communal cells and were forced to do weeding under the scorching heat of the sun every day. I was the Mess Officer in this camp and did my best service for the prisoners with death penalty with the available fresh vegetables. As the days went by, they looked more and more pale. Every month we observed many of them from our communal cell as they were taken away to the execution grounds.
On January 15, 1947, we learned that prisoners who received prison sentences for life or for some definite time were to be sent back to Japan. On the day of departure, I went to pay a last visit to those colleagues who got the death sentence. General Kôno sat heavily on the bed and said, ‘I wish you good health.’ Fujii said, ‘When you return, give my best to my dear wife,’ and his loud laugh rang out as usual. Shin glared up at me, ‘Are you going home?’ Makita greeted me saying, ‘It’s been nice knowing you. I wish you good health.’ Itai grudgingly said, ‘I hope you will certainly avenge this.’ Colonel Tozuka and Otsuka just peeped through the slits of their cells, and the Colonel shouted, ‘Be quick and get yourself a nice wife.’ Otsuka, in the next cell, laughingly added, ‘Do not make such haste, do not.’
Thus, I parted from my comrades with whom I shared life and death, pain and joy. Later on in mid-July, when I was already imprisoned at Sugamo, the second group of prisoners from the Philippines arrived. Among them were my Go game rival, Kawachi, accused for atrocities in Bataan Peninsula. As an interpreter, he was present at the executions of Colonel Tozuka and other Panay prisoners. As soon as we met, he told me how the executions were carried out.
Every Friday, diggers from among prisoners of the suspects’ camp were brought together to dig holes at the corner where graves with white crosses stood in a row. By the number of holes they dug, they knew how many were going to be executed. Towards the evening, an ambulance marked with a white cross and a jeep escort entered the camp. Camp Commander Berg then called out the names of prisoners with the death penalty one by one. They grudgingly made their way into the ambulance. The execution ground was 700 meters away from the camp barracks and was covered by galvanized iron sheets. Next to it was a cell made of wire mesh where prisoners were kept waiting.
As the executioner told the prisoner that he was going to conduct the execution, a military chaplain with a bible in his hands said a prayer and asked the prisoner if he wanted anything. After this, a door on the execution ground was opened revealing 13 steps to the gallows. Two armed guards held both sides of the prisoner, and with the signal, ‘Let’s go!’ quickly ran up the stairs. Soon, the trap door slammed. When a doctor confirmed the death, the body was carried out from under the scaffold into an ambulance.
Of the Panay prisoners, the first executions were on February 24, 1947. These were the Kempeitai WO Fusataro Shin, Sergeant Tokizo Makita and Lance Corporal Hisaki Itai. While they were listening to the chaplain’s message of ‘You are going to Heaven,’ Lance Corporal Itai became furious and turned on the Chaplain, demanding, ‘How could you talk about Heaven when you are going to hang us?’ A month later, on March 31, the executions of the Colonel Tozuka and 2nd Lieutenant Otsuka were carried out. Second Lieutenant Otsuka left a poem, ‘Speaking of flowers, it’s the cherry blossom that is most beautiful as it scatters; I’d like to show you how a man should die.’
Another month later, on April 24, Lieutenant General Kôno, 1st Lieutenant Fujii, and Major Mikami of the Army Hyô Group of Mindanao were executed. Lieutenant General Kôno left a haiku poem, ‘The spring breeze has scattered dew drops at the end of a leaf.’ First Lieutenant Fujii climbed up the stairs, joking to his old mahjong-mate Mikami, ‘I wish we could play mahjong one more time.’
In June 1950, when the Korean War broke out, the sentences handed down to prisoners were reduced one after another. On February 10, 1954, I also got out of Sugamo Prison. The three years during the war, and eight years and four months, which I spent as a war criminal suspect and then a war criminal, had thoroughly exhausted me. Fourteen years after my enlistment into the Fukuoka Regiment in February 10, 1940, I was at last set free from the restrictions of war and imprisonment as a war criminal.
![]()